


The Pet Shelter Department of Pawnee, Indiana

by Parallel_Motion



Category: Parks and Recreation
Genre: Canon Compliant, Deleted Scenes, Pet Shelter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:01:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 17,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26511832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Parallel_Motion/pseuds/Parallel_Motion
Summary: The deleted scenes for each episode that featured Pawnee's Pet Shelter Department. You remember.
Comments: 58
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The wording in bold signifies a confessional break where the character is standing separately, and talking directly to the camera.

.

Season 1 Episode 1  
Date: April 9, 2009  
“Pilot”

“Look, the bottom line is, I’ve been trying to get this thing fixed for months, and nobody’s done anything, and it’s ugly, and it’s dangerous, and it’s government owned, and you need to do something about it.”

“Okay, I’ll do something about it.” Leslie’s eyes sparkled in the face of a new challenge; a new opportunity to help someone. To show the whole community that the Parks department was capable of making a real difference.

“Really?”

“Yes. We-- I will help you.”

“Is that a promise?”

“It’s more than a promise. It’s a pinky promise. I pinky promise all of you,” she addressed the crowd squeezed into a small room inside of Emerson Elementary School, “that I will help, and I will go to that location tomorrow, and we will fill in that pit, and then when that’s done, we’re gonna put a park on the land.”

“Okay.”

The room was filled with scattered, half-hearted applause. 

Another hand shot into the air. “I have something I’d like to say!” The attendees groaned, annoyed that another person had jumped the line when so many of them still had complaints. Like Barry, who hadn’t yet been given the opportunity to discuss his thoughts on Laura Linney.

“Well, two things, now, I guess. Several?”

Relief washed over Leslie’s face, and she sat a little taller in her seat. “Yes, concerned citizen in the corner back there, please share all of your thoughts with us. I’m sure that each one is fair, and deserved, and I am willing to accept any and all criticisms you may have against me. I mean, my department.” She grinned wide, a relaxed smile that showed off her pearly white teeth. 

Tom sighed and rolled his eyes as he slunk back into his chair. “Here we go.”

“So, _originally_ I had planned to say…” The young woman hopped to her feet and struck a theatrically displeased pose, arms crossed and one leg kicked out in front of her. She spoke with an underwhelmed sneer, like some teenager on a poorly written sitcom.

“My name is Renee, and I wanted to say that the grass surrounding the Mayor Percy statue has been looking really normal lately, there’s been no litter along the arboretum trail _at all_ , and I feel really safe about drinking tap water, so…” She tilted her upper torso to the side to accentuate her attempt at an attitude, her wavy brown hair moving along with her singular head bob. “Thanks.” She ramped up the sarcasm to add in a scathing tone, “ _Thank you._ ”

She sat down, and the room was silent. No one was sure if they should clap or not. 

The woman popped back up smiling, the bothered act already forgotten. “Oh! And I think it’ll be really great to have a new park!”

Leslie’s already exuberant face was now lit up like a Christmas tree. “I think it will be, too! I can’t believe this is happening!”

“I’m so excited!” Renee turned to face the previous speaker. “That was a really good idea, Ann.” She nodded appreciatively. 

Ann shook her head, more confused than ever. “I didn’t… I just want the pit filled.”

“You could take the dogs out for their walks at the new park! Oh, think of their tiny, fluffy little paws…” Leslie clapped her hands together. 

“Claude would love having more wide open spaces to fly around in, showing off his kite bomb trick for crowds of park-goers. People love that!”

**Staring into the camera with her back to the classroom doors, Renee smiled. “The kite bomb trick is when Claude the Cockatoo flies around in the wind like a kite, soars as high as he can, and then dives down at people like a targeted drone attack. Once people realize they’re not about to die or anything, they just laugh, and laugh…” She chuckled. “It’s very reminiscent of the George Bush era.”**

The judgy-faced woman in the pink cardigan leaned towards her, squinting. “Aren’t you the girl that works at that Humane Society next to the Taco Bell?”

Renee froze, glancing carefully at Leslie before answering. “Yep. That’s me! I take care of the animals at the… Humane Society…-esque branch of the Pawnee Animal Control Department. Yes.”

Ian Winston shifted his concerns about the cursing at the park to something more personal. “There’s this snake that lives in my toilet. He doesn’t hang out in the bowl, like a coil as you’re probably picturing-- he slithers down the drain and hides out in the tunnel _underneath_ the toilet, and then wherever I sit down, he pops back up and nips me.”

“That’d be more of an Animal Control thing. Just keep calling them until they wake up. They smoke really weak weed, so their afternoon naps aren’t that heavy.”

“Then what do you do?”

“I’m more like…” Renee shifted her stance, gearing up for an impassioned speech reminiscent of a Leslie Knope style delivery. “The Pet Shelter Department acts as a provider for animals, like a temporary home for dogs, cats, and other homeless pets who are lost, surrendered, or strays. Animal control, on the other hand, removes wild animals who create nuisances on your property.”

The nice elderly woman in the front row adjusted her scarf. “So when the cockroach infestation takes over my house again, I should let you know?”

“You should definitely call an exterminator for that.”

Since no one had any other questions on the matter, she turned back to Leslie, the two of them immediately falling back into their previous enthusiasm.

“But the park, though!”

“I know!” Leslie shrieked, barely able to contain her anticipation until after the crowd had dispersed. 

“ _Ohhhhhh myyyyyyy godddddddd!_ ” Her hands drummed rhythmically against the small desk in front of her as she spoke, punctuating each word with a continuous drumroll of excitement.

Tom’s head pressed against the back of the plastic molding. “Can we all go home, now?”

**The space behind Leslie was filled with people filing in and out of the hallway like there was some sort of parent teacher conference event happening. There was not.**

**Leslie and Renee stood shoulder to shoulder, faux stiffness between them in their shared confessional. “What a coincidence, a fellow Pawnee government employee showing up at my open forum.” Renee looked at Leslie, who was still facing the camera, and they struggled to hold back laughter.**

**Tom, in his own separate confessional outside the school building, rolled his eyes. “They do this every time. Leslie leads some sort of public event, Renee shows up pretending to be against it, and then spends the whole time complimenting her. You know what’s worse than Leslie Knope? An _additional_ Leslie Knope!**

**Leslie wrapped an arm around Renee’s shoulder and pulled her in close as they giggled. “I’m kidding! She’s my sister.”**

**“We’re not biologically related; we’re more like adopted sisters.” She looked at Leslie lovingly.**

**“Not so much a legal adoption as much as an ‘I’ve been babysitting for her since she was born and helped raise her and taught her everything I know and if anyone ever hurts her I’ll have them murdered’ thing.”**

**“Like a felony!” Renee beamed at her, and then rested her head on Leslie’s shoulder.**

.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leslie enlists a local reporter to write an article about the park.

.

Season 1 Episode 3  
Date: April 23rd, 2009  
“The Reporter”

“Two caramel marvel lattes, extra whipped cream, extra caramel drizzle, with five extra shots of espresso in each, coming up!” Leslie called out as she pushed open the swinging door entrance to the Pet Shelter with her back, holding two cup carriers filled with drinks in her hands. 

Though it was technically April the intern’s job to keep the Parks office caffeinated, Leslie couldn’t resist being the bearer of nice gifts. 

“Renee?” The main room was empty, save for the array of animals sprawled over various surfaces. Cats laid on the shelved platforms of several cat trees, watching her with reserved judgement. Dogs of all breeds and sizes lounged in open cubbies, anti-anxiety calming mats, and, in the case of one slumbering teacup Pomeranian, the inside of Renee’s old chewed up black combat boot. 

Birds sat neatly on their perches, and the rabbit that usually watched over the guinea pigs was sitting on a pile of paperwork on the adjacent lobby counter. 

“That means you sneaky bastards have got the drop on me.” Her eyes scanned the room in suspicion. She set all but two drinks on the counter next to the rabbit. “Keep an eye on these for me, Eddie.”

She found Renee in exam room number two, the door propped open, leaning forward against a metal counter. Just beyond the back of her long white lab coat, Leslie could make out an orange tabby cat.

“Okay, may I _please_ have your paw?” Her right hand remained outstretched and open, while her left hand held a chunky safety toenail clipper. 

The cat placed his paw in her hand, but once she encircled her fingers around it in a gentle grip, he coolly slid it out and walked away.

She sighed and set the clippers on the counter. “I guess we’ll try this again, later.”

“Mr. Napkins giving you trouble, again?” Leslie teased knowingly. 

“Leslie!” Renee’s face lit up in surprise to see her in the doorway. “Hey! Yeah, he’s never been big on grooming, but I’ll wear him down eventually.

“How on earth are you still single?” Leslie admired. “Oh, right,” she continued, swivelling her head to the side to look intently into the camera, “it’s because you’re perfect and radiant and pure and no one on this planet will ever be good enough for my sister.” She smiled a contented smile, knowing that she was right and that no one could convince her otherwise. 

**Leslie continued on in her confessional on the far end of the lobby, in front of a large glass hamster house case. Fuzzy faces popped in and out of frame as she held up a series of photos cataloguing their youthful adventures together.**

**One is of a teenaged Leslie holding a chocolate-covered beater up to a tiny, chubby face to lick, both of them covered in powdered sugar and brownie batter. Renee’s hair was twisted up into a series of delicately tended french braids. Leslie’s hair was filled with dozens of mismatched barrettes. “Don’t worry, the beater was unplugged.”**

**Another is of them outside a movie theater in the wintertime, the photo date-stamped as February of 1994. They stood bundled up in so many layers of poofy wool and cotton that they had become plushie versions of themselves, posed cheerfully in front of a poster for the Disney movie _Blank Check_. “It’s never too soon to teach kids about responsible financing!”**

**The third photo is of a pre-pubescent Renee proudly holding up Leslie’s Christmas gift to her, a complete _American Gladiator_ toy and costume set, complete with life-sized pugil sticks.**

**“We loved watching that show,” Leslie laughed. “But oh, man, once I dubbed her The Pawnee Gladiator, she… well, she never really grew out of her battle phase.” Her brows furrowed as she studied the photo.**

The scene cut to a flashback of a recent town public forum which ended with local antagonizer Lawrence calling to Leslie on his way out, “Hey park lady, you suck!” 

While Leslie, sitting alone in the row of empty chairs that faced the room, positively _beamed_ at the perceived compliment of being called “Park Lady”, the camera panned right to show Renee as the last citizen still seated, her eyes steeled on the spot Lawrence had just stood. 

Her right arm lifted slowly to reveal a Sonic Boom Bat she’d stashed under her chair. 

“Have you had that here the whole time?”

Renee ignored the question, darting out of her seat to follow after him. 

Leslie’s voice was heard pleading in panic as she watched her race off to defend her honor, “Renee, no!”

**Back at the pet shelter, Leslie confessioned, “Well, it was plastic, so it didn’t hurt him much. But MAN those things are loud!”**

...

They sipped their drinks, chatting casually in the main room next to the puppy pods while watching Leslie’s favorite border collie lick away at a Boredom Buster Lick Pad.

“So what time is your interview today?”

“I haven’t set one up, yet. I’ll call the Pawnee Journal once I get to work. I just _really_ want to build up momentum for this project, you know? Like coal for the locomotive! Gas for the SUV!”

“Dangerously caffeinated lattes for the Pet Shelter employee!” Renee lifted her cup in salute.

“Feeding the flame… fuel for the fire?” 

“That’s a metaphor for making things worse, and there’s no way you could make anything worse. How could an interview about an amazing future park-to-be go wrong? This’ll be easy!”

“Well, you know what they say: The press is a weapon. You can use it to… was it ‘feed people and _then_ kill them’? Or… You know what? I’m going to Altavista it.” She checked the search engine on her phone, in case she ever needed to use the quote again.

“I would for sure rather guzzle a latte than coal. No question.” Renee nodded in support.

“Do you think this could turn out to be one of the best articles The Journal has ever written? Where do you think this’ll rank among interviews, out of all of the interviews, of all time? What if this ends up being a hallmark moment in my journey to the Presidency?” 

The border collie paused its licking to look up at Leslie and yip in agreement. 

“At least better than that article about how babies were to blame for the population spike. Which was total bullshit, by the way.” Leslie, always the unrealistic optimist, deflated. “But it’s going to go great, Leslie, I know it. Plus, you’ve got your lucky white bow blouse on, and you look snazzy! As long as you stay on message, everything should be fine!”

Leslie pursed her lips, staring off into the middle distance. 

Renee placed a hand on her shoulder. “This isn’t going to be like the penises.”

**The two of them now stood shoulder to shoulder in front of the hamster house.**

**“Most people think we're a vet clinic. We _used_ to have a veterinarian here in Pawnee. But then--”**

**“Don't tell them what the raccoons did.” Leslie looks around conspiratorially, eyes widened.**

**Renee opened her mouth and closed it. Her black t-shirt read “I Survived the Coming of Gozer, NYC 1984”, seen clearly from between the open lapels of her lab coat. A happy marshmallow wearing a sailor’s hat cheesed at the camera.**

**"She's legally prohibited from telling you what the raccoons did, so don't ask her.” Leslie squared her shoulders and tilted her head back. “But, for the record, he's doing fine, and has since re-established his business in Eagleton."**

**Renee chewed at her bottom lip before contributing, "I think that the raccoons were misunderstood." She shrugged.**

The scene ended with the two of them laughing at puppy antics to the point of tears, bracing themselves against the pod to keep from collapsing to the floor. The door popped open under Renee’s weight, and she slipped as a litter of puppies spilled out of the pod and tackled them both. Flat on her back, Renee held her latte upright as high as she could reach, managing to not spill a drop. 

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leslie attempts to integrate herself into the local "boys club" by drinking wine from an illegal gift basket, and gets into trouble as she tries to accept responsibility.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This episode was inspired by the opening scene of "Pawnee Zoo", in which Ron announces, "Here's the situation...", and Leslie responds by reciting a long stretch of lyrics to "Parents Just Don't Understand."

.

Season 1 Episode 4  
Date: April 30, 2009  
“Boy’s Club”

Leslie had had a rough day.

A very rough day. 

After opening a gift basket from Norton Construction that was worth waaaaaay more than the allowed twenty-five dollars, Leslie shared a bottle of wine with co-workers on government property, inadvertently gave access to the wine to her nineteen-year-old intern, who then posted a video of herself drinking said wine onto the social media page that Leslie had later shared with every member of the Pawnee government. 

Including the head of the Pawnee Pet Shelter Department. 

And so, Renee showed up to Leslie’s house early in the evening with a to-go box of waffles from JJ’s Diner. Thank the universe for all day breakfast menus.

Leslie devoured her waffles from the only available cushion on the couch (a backup aerosol can of whipped cream snuggled next to her between the cushions), while Renee sat cross-legged on the floor in front of her, awash in the soft glow of the lamp light, listening patiently as Leslie confessed her sorrows in between bites. 

"And he has not one but several gross model friends, but they’re not even models, like anyone would ever hire a girl with a tattoo on the _front_ of her neck to model for anything, to matter how small her string bikini was.” Leslie was in manic rambling mode, spitting out her words as quickly as she could form them. “And he’s one of only _six friends_ the Pit Page has. Even after I sent a link to it TO EVERYONE. I triple checked the link for accuracy, and it was the right link!”

"I friend requested it earlier. I’m still waiting to hear back."

"Thank you, you accommodating lamb of graciousness. Anyway, Ron told me not to make things worse, and all I did was make things worse. God, why did I open that basket?”

Renee reclined back onto the stacks of old Yellow Pages behind her. “You still have all of the cheese from that basket, though, right? Please tell me you kept the cheese.” 

"I’ve confiscated it from myself, for evidence. But listen, I did the right thing, here! Afterwards. Don't get me started on that time Sal from the Financial Services Department opened that Deluxe Hearthside Gift Basket from Harry & David. That was infinitely more expensive than the basket I got." She balled her petite hands into fists. "And he's still bragging about the baklava."

"I think it might be the ‘underage intern drinking at work’ that'll do it, though. Do you think it would help mentioning that she wasn't on the clock at the time?"

Leslie groaned and tipped over, sinking face-down onto the cushion full of bound newspapers next to her. A large pile of afghan blankets and crudely sewn pillow cases fell over and landed on the back of her head. “All I wanted to do was be accepted as an equal. And now there’s a disciplinary meeting tomorrow, and I could lose my job.”

She fell quiet for a beat, and then lifted up to face her sister, looking more fragile than Renee had expected.

"Do you think Mark and I could ever have a future together? I mean, really?"

She took a moment to choose her words carefully. There was never any point in lying, but she also didn't like to hurt anyone's feelings. Especially Leslie's.

She looked around the room to buy herself time, eyes travelling past the tightly packed furniture buried under boxes and books; the table engulfed in files, folders, and boxes full of file folders; knick-knacks on top of more books; articles of clothing draped across everything, and landed on the large Pawnee Crime Index Map standing upright over what was technically the dining room table. An enormous blown up government employee photo of Marlene Griggs-Knope was placed to the left of it, Leslie’s mom smiling proudly in full business attire while standing in front of the American flag. 

“Well, you were born one week after he was, so that’s pretty cool. At least you guys are both Capricorns together. You’d have the same good qualities.” She toed at the floor awkwardly, the same way she was toeing the line with this conversation.

"Sharing the same zodiac sign has to count for something. Yeah! Hey! Maybe I'll have more time to date him after I'm fired." Leslie stretched her arm out dramatically, thwacking it against a large column of hardcover biographies, rolling her eyes as they all fell over. “Oh come on… uuuuugggggh, Renee, what do I do? This situation is serious!"

Without thinking, Renee responded in a sing-song voice, "Let's cure it 'cause we're running out of tiiiiime."

"Huh?" As it slowly dawned on Leslie what had just happened, her face perked up, and she sat back up to join in "...Oh oh oh! It's. All. So. _Beautifuuuuuuul_!"

"Relationships they seeeeeem from the start."

"It's. All. So. _Deadlyyyyyyy_."

"When love is not together from the heart! Check it out." Renee hopped to her feet, nearly toppling the box labelled “1996 Summer Olympics Neighborhood Viewing Party”. She belted out the next verse, "It's driving me out of my miiiind! That's why it's hard for meee to fiiiind."

"Can't get it outta my head...Miss her, kiss her, love her" Leslie crooned, while Renee simultaneously spoke-warned in her best baritone, "Wrong move you're dead!" She said this while throwing Leslie finger guns.

They joined together once the chorus hit. "That girl is _poisoooonnnnnn_!"

Renee paused her jumping around in time to instruct the photo of Marlene Griggs-Knope to "Never trust a big butt and smile!"

“Haha, you hypocrite!” Leslie laughed as she smacked her with the newspaper bundle she’d been sitting next to. Renee let herself fall dramatically against one of Leslie’s two spinning globes, draping herself over it in comical defeat, knowing it would make Leslie laugh.

They finished up the chorus and the little dances after it before Renee looked Leslie in the face and proclaimed with concern. "...But seriously, though, Leslie…”

Leslie stopped moving.

“If I were you... I'd take _precautioooooons_!”

Leslie laughed out loud. “Oh my god! You faker!”

“Haha, you get it? Because I don't want you to get fired." Her mouth hung open in a wide smile. 

Leslie led the next verse, and the weight on her shoulders felt a little bit lighter. 

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bell Biv DeVoe - [“Poison”](https://youtu.be/RcbMW2-Goog)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andy gets the casts removed from his legs, and Ann re-evaluates their relationship when she learns he kept them on longer than necessary so she would keep pampering him. An intoxicated Mark flirts with Leslie, who feels conflicted about whether she wants to move forward when he is drunk.

.

Season 1 Episode 6  
Date: May 14th, 2009  
“Rock Show”

“I know it’s here. It has to be-- right-- oh god, where did it go?” Leslie Knope was shuffling around on her hands and knees in the dirt, at the bottom of the pit. Her white overcoat was covered in filth, and had come open during her race to the bottom to help Mark Brendanawicz.

Mark groaned in agony. “Please, call for help. _Anyone! Help!_ ”

“I’m trying! I’m! Gah-- how can it--” Leslie hiccupped; the alcohol had started catching up to her the moment things got real and the adrenaline kicked in. “Stupid cellphone!”

“Leslie, I’m here! I’ve got my phone!” The beacon of shining light and heroism that was Ann Perkins stood at the top of the pit, cell phone in hand, already dialing 911.

“Ann, I still can’t find my phone! It has to be-- Mark have you seen my phone? Nevermind, don’t answer that, you focus on… not having broken bones. Oh god, Mark, I’m so sorry.”

“Yes, my name is Ann Perkins, I’m at the pit on Sullivan street. There is an adult male who just fell into the pit. It’s a… twenty foot drop? Thirty? He’s conscious, he’s in a lot of pain…”

“Mark, please don’t die, I don’t think I could-- oh god, I’m gonna hurl.”

“--I have ascertained for any visible breaks, yes. No broken skin, no bleeding-- he’s moving, so no major spinal damage--”

“Mark, I’m gonna throw up!”

“LESLIE, DON’T THROW UP ON MARK!” Ann pressed the phone back to her face. “I am so sorry…”

Leslie collapsed in pitiful sorrow. “Mark, this is all my fault. I’m going to make this up to you, I swear! I’ll stay by your side at the hospital. I’ll get everyone at Town Hall to sign your casts! Oh, god, please don’t die. I should’ve just kept kissing you, and then none of this would’ve happened.”

Mark inhaled several shallow gulps of air. “Ann… do you have any morphine?”

“Okay, thank you. Thank you. I’ll stay with him. Them. Thank you.” Ann pressed the hang up button and returned her attention to her friend. “Leslie, the ambulance is on its way. If you have any injuries, you NEED to tell them!”

“Ann, you ceaseless wonder of medical sorcery. What would I ever do without--” Leslie reared her head back, turned away from Mark, and puked into the nearest open trash bag.

“Anything at all, Ann. Morphine? Anesthesia?” he moaned.

“Have you guys been drinking? They can’t give you anesthesia if you’ve been drinking. That’s actually really dangerous.”

“It’s Andy’s toaster.”

“What?”

Leslie pointed a shaky finger off into the distance. “Over there. Over by ‘Ring Around the Diaper’. It’s a toaster. I’ll bet it’s that toaster Andy wanted to get, when he fell in the-- ANDY! Ann, get Andy, he can help! He can help me find my-- oh god.” She held her head over the trash bag, still queasy.

“Andy’s… he’s not going to…” Ann sighed, and rubbed her face with her free hand. 

“Ann? Ann what happened? Oh no, I know that face. This is something bad. Oh, this is bad. Is Andy dying, too?”

“ _Why is this happening to me?_ ”

“No, he’s just--” Ann struggled with her words. It went against her nature to complain about her own problems, especially when others were far more in need. 

But it always helped to confide in Leslie, even when she was inebriated and rolling in dirt.

“We had a fight. It got bad. I kicked him out.”

“He left?” 

“No, he’s still in there. He told me Mark fell in, and when I rushed out, he went straight back to the couch. Like what he did to me didn’t matter. Using me as his maid, lying to me-- he could have had his casts off two weeks ago!”

“I can’t believe-- Andy-- okay, I can believe it.”

“And then when I went back in to get my _phone_ ,” she waved the object in her hand with emphasis, “I told him to come out here and help us, and he laughed. He said it was the funniest thing he’d seen in a long time, and that I’m a nurse and so I’ve got things ‘handled’, and then he went back to watching American Idol.”

She could see Leslie’s brows furrow from far away. “That rotten bastard.”

“And it’s MY house, not his. Why-- why-- you know what? This is my fault. I’ve enabled him. I let this go on for way too long. I need to break up with him.”

“ _Just knock me out with a lead pipe or something. Either of you. I beg of you._ ”

“Shush, Mark, don’t stress yourself out. Stay still. Ann! Listen to me. I know what to do. I know what to do.” Leslie pushed herself up, struggling to stand on wobbly feet and high heels.

Ann waited for her to continue, a sad uptick in the middle of her eyebrows that would make Leslie weep if she weren’t filled with protective rage.

“Ann, I’m going to tell you numbers, okay? All seven of them. And I want you to-- I want you to put them into your phone. And call them.”

“...Who am I calling?”

Leslie gritted her teeth. “Pest removal.”

...

With his sweaty limbs stretched out across Ann’s couch, remote control in hand, Andy Dwyer turned up the volume on Ann’s tv so that he could hear the lyrics over the sound of himself eating Ann’s potato chips. 

The back door opened and closed behind him. He ignored the footsteps trailing through the kitchen, past the dining table, and into the living room.

They hesitated behind the couch, then circled around the side to face him.

"Babe, watch this guy sing. He looks like a Hot Topic bushwacker. God, he can NOT sing at ALL. Do you think he sings better than me?" When she didn't respond, he glanced over.

It wasn't Babe.

It was a young woman he had never seen before, dressed in faded jeans and chunky boots; a long black trench coat over a black t-shirt with Skeletor's cackling cartoon face peeking out at him.

"Are you Andy Dwyer?"

"Uh, depends who's askin’."

She didn't answer, just stared at him with a neutral expression.

“If you’re a Mouserat groupie… congrats on having _awesome_ taste in music, but a threesome isn’t gonna happen. Trust me, my girlfriend is NOT into that kind of thing. Like, AT ALL.”

She continued to stare. 

“You could try Burly, but tell him you’re a ‘Scarecrow Boat’ groupie, cause that guy’s been _super_ weird lately about not wanting to change band names all the time.”

She looked at the straps running vertically down the sides of her torso. His eyes followed as she lifted her right hand up to chest height to reveal a plastic tube more than twice the width of her arm.

Her left hand moved to grip something underneath it, and Andy found himself pelted in the face with a sharp sting of water. 

He recoiled, his palm jerking up to shield his face, stunned open with awe. "How'd you do that?!"

She held her fist up higher and stretched it out to the side, showcasing the biggest Nerf Super Soaker Andy had ever seen. The weight of it was suspended by a thick strap bundled tight in her hand, a much longer strap running into the inside of her trench coat and around one shoulder to carry it. 

The barrel itself was almost twice as long as her forearm, and came equipped with a pressure nozzle, a manual hand pump, a squeeze trigger, and a four-foot pickup hose. She pivoted even further to show off a five gallon backpack made of tough, engineering-grade polymer. The hose ran out of the bottom of the backpack and connected at the base of the weapon. 

“WHOA-ho-ho!” he bellowed, taking in the whole getup. “That is bad ASS! Where did you get that? Also, you look like one of those dudes from that one movie. The twins that. Uh. Shoot bad guys and stuff? And they’re, like, super Irish about it.” 

“Boondock Saints. Thanks,” she said without smiling. “That’s what I was going for.” 

He screwed up his face with intensity and said with a bungled attempt at an Irish accent, “What’re ya gonna need a stewpid fookin’ rope for?”

The corners of her mouth twitched imperceptibly, as if fighting back a smirk. 

“Didn’t Ann tell you to leave?”

“Uhhh, which time?”

She squeezed the trigger, spraying him in the face again.

“Aaaaah!” He fought off the water with both hands. “Dude, stop! NOT cool!” 

“You took advantage of a very nice lady, Andy.”

“But you don’t understand, though. Listen. She makes REALLY good sandwiches.”

“You lied to her.”

“She’s a NURSE! She waits on people ALL the TIME. Like, every day, pretty much. I should be the person she’s waiting on!”

“You’re a shitty boyfriend.”

“Who the fuck even ARE you?”

She adjusted a dial on the top of the soaker. “You should leave.”

His face contorted and he crossed his arms, giving him the all-around look of a massive, stubborn toddler on the verge of a meltdown. “ _NO! YOU_ leave!”

She hosed him again. He could feel the increased intensity the moment it socked him in the cheek. 

He flailed comically, sputtering through the stream. “Wait!”

She extended the pump under the nozzle. “You gonna get out of Ann’s house, now?” 

“This is SO DUMB. I basically live here!” 

She waited patiently as his neck craned in a circle, a slow-motion drama scene unfolding from deep within him, bulging eyes glaring daggers at her. 

“You know what? It’s on. I am NOT leaving this couch, lady, and there ain’t shit you can do about it!”

…

“And this” she said as she sprayed him for the umpteenth time, “is for insulting Indianapolis-born national treasure Adam Lambert.”

“They JUST SAID that he’s from San Diego, and that’s not even in Indiana. I’m pretty sure.”

She twisted the dial. He tilted his chin down, daring her on.

She lowered the aim and sprayed him in the balls. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he wailed. “Fuuuuuuck, that was my fucking nutsack!”

She paused, a sly grin forming. She countered with impressive Gaelic elocution, “Well, that certainly illustrates the diversity of the word.”

“Holy shit, you speak Irish?”

“It was a quote from the movie.” She glanced at the soaker. “You wanna see how high the force on this thing can get? I already know, but I’m asking if you want to know.”

He wiped the water from his face and threw his head back on the couch, sighing audibly. 

“Look, all I did was just tell Ann about how Mark fell into the pit after making out with Leslie. I mean, I was just watching tv before Ann and I fought, so I don’t see what difference it even makes that I’m watching tv now! It’s the same tv!” 

She hesitated. The soaker fell back to its place at her side. “Leslie was making out with Mark?” 

“Yeah, I did NOT see that coming. Totally called it with Malwae-Tweep, though.”

“Are they...please tell me they’re not back together.” 

“How the hell would I know? I mean, she seemed really concerned that he fell into the pit. _Way_ more concerned than she was that I fell into the pit, and that’s saying a lot. Because she was really into me falling into the pit.”

The girl looked sad. 

“I don’t even get it, dude. Leslie can do so much better.” 

She furrowed her brows. “I didn’t come here to agree with you, Couch Usurper.”

“I mean, the hot reporter I get, but like-- Leslie’s a real adult, you know?”

Renee stared quietly at the floor. 

“Buuuuuuuut, I guess Ann’s a real adult, too, isn’t she?” He groaned. Holding himself accountable for things never felt very good. “It’s kind of like I’m the Mark in this situation, except a billion times more rad and better looking and I’m a rockstar and he’s not.”

She shrugged in vague agreement.

“I guess I kinda do deserve to get wrecked on Ann’s couch, don’t I?” He schooled his face into what he assumed came off as mature, and boldly accepted his punishment. 

To Renee’s surprise, he looked genuinely contrite about the whole thing. She lifted the nozzle and pumped it, but her enthusiasm for it had flagged. 

Now they were both sad.

“Alright, but hey, can you do that one thing where you aim it up into the air and let the water fall down onto my face? I feel like that would be less severe.”

“Like when a rotating sprinkler gets stuck in one direction?”

“Yeah. Or like when you stand under one of those roof gutters.”

She aimed up towards the ceiling, and it fell perfectly onto Ann’s couch cushion. Within seconds, she had it trained to rain down onto his face.

With his eyes closed and his face split into a victorious smile, he threw both fists into the air. “YES!” 

After an exciting thirty seconds of this, the stream died down. Renee checked the soaker, and then craned her neck to look at the levels on her backpack. It was nearly empty.

“Ummmm…” she asked politely, “Is it cool if I go use Ann’s kitchen sink?”

...

By the time the ambulance had left and Ann helped guide a sloppy Leslie in through the front door, Renee had mastered spraying the water directly into Andy’s mouth. He lapped at it heartily, looking not unlike the labrador who’d arrived at the shelter earlier that month. 

“The heavy’s-- s’not supposed to befriend the bad boyfr’nd, Reneeeeee,” Leslie slurred.

“Babe, you’re home! Hey, show Ann what I can do!”

Renee twisted the dial back to low, and sprayed him in the crotch. 

He guffawed, laughing deeply from his gut, and bellowed, “Look, Ann, I peed all over myself!” 

Ann and Leslie gaped in disbelief. 

He looked around where he sat. “And-- I also, I guess I peed all over your couch. Sorry, A-Cakes.”

Ann looked at Leslie. “This is what you meant by ‘She’ll handle it’?”

.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leslie marries two gay penguins, is celebrated at the Bulge. 

.

Season 2 Episode 1   
Date: September 17, 2009  
“Pawnee Zoo”

Leslie's latest attempt at a cute, heartwarming event to bring the community together came with unexpected results, giving her that familiar, desperate need in her veins to verify that her image as a bipartisan, non-divisive member of the Pawnee government was still in tact.

And so she asked the closest thing to a representative of the gay community she could find. 

"I know that you are not gay," she offered after pulling Tom into their shared office, not entirely certain. 

"No, I'm not."

"But you're effeminate."

"What?"

"Well, you're wearing a peach shirt with a coiled snake on it."

"Yes, 'cause it was featured in 'Details' magazine, and it's awesome."

"Effeminate. Anyway, so the point is, do you think that marrying penguins made some kind of statement?"

"Yes, the statement was that you're very lonely, and you need a pet," Tom stated without pity.

Right on cue, Jerry Gergich walked in with another gift offering from The Bulge, the local gay club honoring Leslie for her public support. "Leslie, they sent you t-shirts, too."

"Oh. Wow, look, they sent us a t-shirt. Hmm." She held it up to Tom's polo shirt, the shades matching up perfectly.

"Mine has a collar on it."

Leslie nodded politely and tucked her lips together in a polite grimace.

"Ugh. Why don't you just give it to your little sister, or something?"

Leslie gave the shirt another once over. "Nah. She's not really the girly type."

...

"Why didn't you tell me that The Bulge is a gay bar?"

The almost-fall breeze in the commons felt nice as it playfully swept through Leslie's hair, not yet forceful enough to disrupt the Shawarma lunch that Renee had brought over. She eyed the floppy pickle wedge in her grip before chomping down on it. 

Renee smothered her spicy potatoes and rice in garlic sauce before reconsidering, and adding the entire container of tahini to her plate. 

"You knew it was a gay bar. That's why all of the guys you were flirting with at my 21st birthday party last year were gay."

“That reminds me, I only have two months left until your next birthday party, and I’ve just barely begun planning Part Twelve of the day’s festivities. I need to get on that.”

Renee studied the tiny, phallic grape leaves in the side dish container. "You do know that Pitchers and Catchers is a gay bar as well, right?"

"WRONG!" Leslie laughed, slapping a hand onto the table, her styrofoam cup of amomasen tea precariously close to tipping over. "It's a sports bar. Nice try, though!"

**“Can’t pull a fast one on this guy,” Leslie said to the cameraman, both thumbs aimed at the groom jacket she was still wearing from the wedding ceremony earlier that morning.**

...

The dance music playlist at the Bulge was a successful one; the loud bass pumping through the speakers had everyone bouncing around in celebration. 

Renee reclined in her seat at the table closest to the dance floor, admiring the "Knope" flier they were passing out at the entrance doors.

The photoshopped Sheppard Fairey-style rendition made Leslie look even cooler, somehow.

She was distracted by a particularly edgy pair of men grinding up on one another about ten feet away. 

"Perfect location as usual," she said to her table.

Leslie ran over to her, eyes wild. "I was wrong, there's not just one bisexual guy here, there's two! And he gave me his number, too! Now both of my hands have hot bi guy's digits on them! Check it out!" She held both hands up to Renee's face. "Haaaa!"

"You're living the dream, Leslie!" She sighed. "I wish I could find a nice bisexual boy to settle down with."

"What! No! Don't even think about it, young lady, you're too young for boys. When you're old enough to date, we'll find you-- oh, hey! I need to go tell the camera guy about this!" 

Adjusting her polka dot shirt, Leslie sauntered off in what she was confident was a normal, not at all plastered strut to the bar, taking a detour toward the guy in the tight yellow tank top who kept her supplied with free shots.

Renee continued watching the men in front of her with a lascivious grin as she sipped her water through a straw; the muscled one in eyeliner wearing a particularly snug-fitting pair of black jeans.

Tom walked up in distress and dropped a stack of fliers onto the tabletop. "None of the women here are willing to dance with me! Do they not even _notice_ how many gay guys have been trying to get with this tonight?" He gestured towards his carefully selected outerwear. "Doesn't that count for anything?"

When she didn't respond, he followed her gaze, and shook his head. "You can't just stare at people like that. It's creepy."

"Okay," she smiled politely at him, then returned to appreciating the view like Tom hadn't said a word.

...

It was a confusing sight. The South African penguins that had been just recently acquired by the Pawnee Zoo were now being pushed away from their enclosure in a double-wide baby stroller. 

The crowd parted to let them through. At the tail end of the crowd stood Norm, the older man with the scraggly goatee who'd been in charge of tending to them during their stay and had helped Leslie arrange the transfer to another zoo across state lines. He held his floppy hat in one hand, and flashed Tux and Flipper a thumbs up with the other. "Go get 'em, boys!"

Renee wheeled them past the entrance and up to Leslie's large vehicle parked up front. The blonde was chock full of energy and purpose in her short sleeved blue sweater and white blouse combo.

"I've got their car seats all set up and did a self-test; I tugged at those suckers with all of my body weight, and they are FOR SURE not going to shift during the drive!"

Renee waited until after they were secured safely to let herself get dewey-eyed. 

"Enjoy Iowa, you guys." It was bittersweet to see them leave, but the state's more progressive marriage laws would be better for them than staying in Indiana.

"Don't forget this." She pulled a spray bottle of water out from behind the stroller, and handed it to Leslie. "Make sure you keep them misted during the drive."

"Misted?"

"Yeah. Just spray them right in the face. They'll love it."

"Well, you're the animal expert." She placed it on the passenger seat next to her. 

Renee shoved her hands into her pockets and stared off into the horizon, chewing at the inside of her cheek.

"Hey." Leslie's voice was soft as she reached her arm through the driver side window and held out her open hand. "At least they'll be together."

Renee took her hand and squeezed it, smiling at the backseat through the tinted glass. "At least they'll be together."

.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leslie conducts surveillance on a community garden to find out who planted marijuana there. Tom is arrested for breaking back into the stakeout van. Meanwhile, Ron Swanson has a hernia.

.

Season 2 Episode 2  
Date: September 24, 2009  
“The Stakeout”

It was past midnight, and Leslie Knope was livid. 

“And then I told him that it didn’t seem to MATTER to the POLICE!” her disembodied voice exclaimed, strained with fury. A landline phone rang in the background, and the distinct sound of monotone dispatch voices filtered in and out. 

“Good one, sis.” Renee yawned at her phone, rubbing her tired eyes. She glanced at the cat-shaped clock on the bedside table, an old gift from Leslie herself.

“And then I asked him if it was police policy in this town to arrest people for trying to get into their own vans, and ohhhhh boy, you should have seen him sweat!”

Renee scratched at her ankle through her Guitar Hero pajama pants. “Damn right. Never let the--” she yawned again, “--man bring you down.”

“And then, he had the nerve to tell me to go home! Ha! Like I can just GO HOME in the face of _injustice_.”

“He sounds like a real jerkoff.”

“He is! He is a jerkoff. That’s his name, now. Officer Jerkoff. Hey! _Officer Jerkoff_!” she called out, holding the phone away from her face.

“Leslie, is he in the same room with you, right now? Can he hear you?"

Leslie, face still turned away from the phone and in the direction of said officer, delivered a biting retort about it being freezing in the Police Department lobby, and returned to her call, “Yeah, he’s just standing there behind the counter like some sort of do-nothing. You _desk jockey_!”

Renee giggled. Leslie was such a badass.

“ _Excuse me_?”

“You heard me!”

Admiring the intense strength of Leslie's determination, and remembering just how long Leslie could force her own energy levels up for a fight, it occurred to Renee that there was something she could do to help. To contribute.

She sat up in bed, pushing aside the sheet and comforter. “Leslie, do you want me to bring you some chocolate or something?”

That caught her attention. “Oh, you thoughtful, enabling Mother Theresa, you. Yes. I would love some chocolate. Immediately, please. Anyway," she took a deep breath, "after he told me to go home, I got all up in his grill, and Ann and Mark both had my back one hundred percent, and they were cheering me on. And then I went into his office to yell at him some more, and THAT'S where I told him--”

“Hey Leslie, my phone’s beeping. Hang on.” 

She looked at the screen. 

“Can I call you right back?”

…

A station wagon pulled into the driveway about ten minutes later. April Ludgate left the car running and the driver’s side door wide open as she strode across the distance to the front porch. 

Renee hopped to her feet. “Hi! What’s up, guys?” She wasn’t expecting a visit from the legendary Ron Swanson at this hour, nor the intern with the cool makeup from her sister’s office. 

“What do you mean, ‘what’s up’?” April deadpanned, immediately crossing her arms over her chest. “Give him the surgery. He has a hernia.” 

Her voice was calm. Too calm, for the words she had chosen to use. Her expression carried the subdued impatience of a preteen who couldn't believe their parent wanted to drop them off *right in front of the school* where everyone could see them.

Renee’s eyebrows shot up. “He-- Ron has a hernia?” She craned her neck to see the man looking more constipated than usual in the passenger seat of April's car. “Dude, you need to take him to a hospital!”

“I was _going to_ , but he changed his mind and said he doesn’t wanna go anymore." Her gaze drifted from the car to the grass yard, and anything else to avoid having to make eye contact. She scuffed a shoe against the sidewalk. "He said you could do it yourself, and that way he could skip all of the paperwork.”

**"Ron doesn't like doing paperwork outside of the office," April said to the camera. "Or at the office. Or ever."**

Renee's mind raced through what exactly constituted treatment for a hernia. Typically, a hernia meant that a loop of intestinal tissue had burst through an abnormal opening of some sort. Surgery was required for returning the tissue and suturing the wound.

“I don’t know how to give someone a hernia surgery. I’ve never done any surgeries. Ever!" It made her a little fearful that this was actually expected of her, let alone encouraged.

“What the hell kind of doctor ARE YOU if you can’t even perform a surgery on demand?” Despite the harsh words, April’s delivery remained set at “indoor voice”. Renee didn't know if it was an acknowledgement of the late hour in a sleeping neighborhood, or if this was just how April was.

“I’m not a doctor.”

“You could’ve told me that over the phone.” 

Renee eyed the girl’s dark jacket covered in pastel paint splotches. It looked like she had just killed a clown.

“All you did was ask me my address and tell me to 'get my knives ready'. I had no idea what you were showing up to do. But. You know... I was pretty curious.”

April’s eyes rolled as far back into her head as she could manage. "God, can't you just wing it or something?"

"Wing it? April, he could die! I’m not--” Renee looked away and managed a deep inhale, steadying herself. "Look, it’s not the legalities. I'm not scared to spend a night in jail. Sometimes, a night in the tank can be kind of bolstering, when it's for the right reasons--"

"If he dies and they try to throw you in prison, I’ll tell the cops that I held a knife to your throat, or something.” Her eyes widened, the slightest trace of urgency starting to seep in. 

“That’s cool of you to offer, but, I could never deal with having someone die on my watch. I’m too sensitive for that. I don’t think I could ever... _shake_ it, you know?” 

Renee held an arm out towards the car, and they both looked at the man still dressed up in his brown suit and diagonally striped tie. He hadn’t moved an inch the whole time. 

“But he won’t die at all if you take him to the hospital. It’s the only reasonable thing to do, here, April. Just take him to the hospital.”

Her lip actually curled in disgust, like they do in the movies. “You’re the shittiest surgeon _ever_!” She stomped off towards the car. “Sorry, _Ron_ ,” she said loud enough to make sure that Renee would hear, “Looks like Leslie’s annoying sister just gave you a shit ton of paperwork to fill out.” 

She slammed the door shut and rolled down the window, sticking her head out to yell directly at Renee. “The man has a hernia, and you’re giving him more paperwork to do, you heartless monster!”

She fully intended on filling out Ron’s forms for him once they got there, but the dumb not-a-doctor didn’t need to know that.

Renee watched Ron’s scathing, furious scowl stare back at her as April’s car peeled backwards out of her driveway, tearing off into the night.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get it? Officer Jerkoff? Because he's played by Louis C.K.? You get it.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leslie serves as a judge in the Miss Pawnee beauty pageant. Ann discovers her ex-boyfriend Andy is spying on her from the construction pit near her house, where he is now living.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first few paragraphs of dialogue are canon quotes.

.

Season 2 Episode 3   
Date: October 1, 2009  
“Beauty Pageant”

“Oh my god, you live down here. Oh my _god_ , I can’t believe this is happening. What?! I can’t be at my house and see my ex-boyfriend living in a hole in my backyard like a gopher. That’s so _weird_ , Andy!”

To Ann’s horror and dismay, it turned out that Andy hadn’t moved on as he’d previously claimed, but had been sleeping in a tent, living off of god knows what, and playing pretend with an abandoned desk and chair sitting neatly in their own trenches in the dirt.

Andy was offended. “Listen. Are we gonna talk about _anything_ other than the lies that I told you?” He eyeballed her expectantly. 

“Oh, listen, I can’t do this right now. I have a guy fixing my bathroom. I got to go.”

“Yeah, that’s cool. I gotta zoom out too, because I have some people coming over. So why don’t you call first next time? You know the way out."

Ann groaned. 

…

She emerged from the house a couple of hours later, to check on the mailbox. It was sensible, she told herself. She hadn't checked the mail since two days ago. There could be mail there. Better to look into it now, before the rainstorm hit.

It lingered in her mind, Andy's head popping up from the ground without warning. He could be watching her right now.

She wasn't going to look. She wasn't. Because if she looked, she'd see his sad face staring at her. And it'd remind her of how the creepiest, most personal and uncomfortable thing that had ever happened to her was only going to persist the longer she ignored it.

Oh god, she was going to look. Fuck it, might as well get this over with. _Time to face the music_ , as Leslie would say.

And sure enough, she was right. Emerging from the pit, covered in dirt, was-- 

“Renee… what the hell are you doing here?”

“Hey, Ann!” She waved with a friendly smile, innocently wandering over to join her like this were a normal situation. 

“Renee, you just climbed out of my backyard. Do you not get how awkward that is?" 

Her eyes trailed up and down her outfit, completely caked. Her face, her arms, even her neck had streaks of dirt on it. 

It was almost as if--

“Ohmygod, are you, are you two…” She waggled a finger between the pit and the girl standing in front of her. “Are you… _seeing_ each other?”

Renee’s eyes bulged. “No! Noooooooo, nono, are you crazy? That’s so gross! I’m not going to bang the guy my friend was just dating.” She did a full-bodied shudder.

Ann took in her appearance with a grimace.

“Oh, this?” She shook her hair like a wet dog. Little clouds of dust poofed around her, the dirt falling onto her boots. “It was really easy getting down into the pit, but crawling back out of it came with its own challenges.” She raked short fingers through long hair in futility. “I felt like one of those weekend warriors.”

Ann nodded, no less confused. “Okay. Well, that’s probably for the best that you’re not dating Andy, because, you know, he’s pretty much homeless, now, I guess. No, he is _definitely_ homeless. He is the definition of a homeless man.”

Renee shrugged. “That’s cool. I don’t care about that. It’s more that I only see him as a platonic friend.”

She placed a caring hand on Renee’s shoulder. “No, it’s _not_ cool. Why would a normal…” She reworded her thoughts, “Why would a more-normal-than-Andy person be hanging out in a pit, anyway? You have an actual job.”

“I know.” She lifted up a white plastic bag with purple lettering. “I brought him some Taco Bell. It’s right next to the shelter, so it wasn’t any trouble. Got him a ton of stuff from the dollar menu, so, it was super cheap. Anyway, I’ve got a cheesy bean and rice burrito left over, if you want one?” 

“No, I’m good, thanks. I’ve got a--” she threw her thumb over her shoulder. “a bathroom, thing, happening.”

Renee smiled. “Okay. Raincheck, then. See ya!” She made it a few steps before Ann called out to her.

“Hey, Renee?” Ann looked up at the sky. The dark gray clouds were heavy, and picking up speed. “It’s nice that you’re, I don’t know, helping the needy and all, but-- wouldn’t you rather be watching the beauty pageant with Leslie right now? She’s one of the judges, isn't she?”

She shook her head slowly. This was the first time Ann had ever seen Renee look disappointed in something she’d said. “Ann… watching a beauty pageant? How would I ever explain that to my grandchildren?”

…

Later that evening, at Mark’s encouraging, Ann invited Andy in to sit during the rainstorm. Despite his accusations and melodramatic observations, he was distracted by the aromas of Ann’s home cooking. 

“Dig in,” she said to Mark only. 

“I already ate, I’m super full. I don’t-- I didn’t want any.” Andy looked up sadly from the back of the couch he was perched on.

Mark gave her one of those soft _come on_ kinds of looks. “You did make extras. What could it hurt?”

Ann sighed into her hands. Mark had been right. This really was the weirdest second date ever. 

.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ann takes a panicked Leslie to dinner to help prepare for her first date with policeman Dave. After the Councilman Dexhart scandal breaks, Tom insists nobody could find any sordid information about him, prompting the parks department employees to start a game to see who can get the most dirt on each other.

.

Season 2 Episode 4  
Date: October 8, 2009  
“Practice Date”

Mark stared incredulously at the tv as he sipped the drink in his waxed disposable paper cup through a straw, the breaking news of the conference still broadcasting live.

“Why would anyone want to run for public office? You’re just asking to have your entire life exposed.”

“Well, if you’re squeaky clean, like I am, there’s no problem.” Tom had certainly never had four-way cave sex in Brazil, to his own dismay. 

“Tom, you’re married, and you hit on women constantly.”

“Yeah,” Tom conceded, confident in his credibility, “but I’ve never sealed the deal. Just window shopping.” He looked to his coworkers for support, delivering an impromptu zinger. “You can fly to Brazil, just don’t enter the cave, am I right? Up top.” 

His hand in the air remained un-fived.

...

For Tom, competition wasn’t just a fun personal challenge, like it was for Mark and Donna. And it wasn’t simply a way of getting out of having to do work, like for April. Winning the crown in any event was an instant image booster; a reminder to those around him that he was the top dog. A baller disguised as a prince, his suit and tie always projecting the suave sophistication of David Beckham with the bad boy CEO aura of Jay-Z.

And so it was Tom (with an assist from Mark) that suggested that they turn fact-finding on one another into a game, the entire office eagerly joining in.

Besides, if he found some particularly juicy gossip, that would be HILARIOUS, and people would remember him for bringing entertainment to the office at the expense of some poor sap. 

His knack for keeping his eye on the prize was finally going to pay off.

_Now is my time to shine_ , Tom mused. No one else had the drive or the sheer power of will that he had. 

Ron Swanson stepped out of his office, clutching onto a football in anticipation of a new tournament, looking altogether like a ‘50s quarterback about to throw the winning pass. “I will play too, if only to prove that I can find more dirt on you than you can on me.”

_Fuck._

...

April glanced unimpressed at Tom’s setup. Their shared circular table in the lobby was covered with today’s Pawnee Journal, an organized folder with an itemized list, a pen, blank paper, and sections for notes. He tugged at the buttoned wrists of his mauve and white striped blouse.

“Why are you reading the newspaper?” April asked, returning to her hardcover novel.

“Print media is filled with private citizen’s dirt, if you know how to read between the lines.”

“Why don’t you just use a computer?”

She was right. Damn.

“Well, you’re reading a _book_. How’s that going to help you?”

April examined her copy of ‘Chuck Dugan is AWOL’. “It’s teaching me how to be a pirate spy, and evade capture from my enemies.”

...

Many hours had passed and his research on Mark remained unfruitful. Tom sighed and slumped further into the computer, his jaw resting entirely in the palm of his hand, his propped arm starting to fall asleep.

This was boring. Plus, it wasn’t even fair that he’d only been there a little while, compared to everyone but April. Whatever interesting thing his coworkers once had going on in their lives, it was clearly long over. It’s not like he’d known them as long as Leslie has. But Leslie wouldn’t play along and give him some hints, just went on a nerd rant about ethics, and professionalism in the workplace.

He gazed out the window of his and Leslie’s shared office. Leslie and Hot Nurse were huddled together over their lunch table in the commons, discussing whatever it was girls talked about. Pedicures, probably. Or whether they’d prefer to make out with Channing Tatum or James Franco. 

_Oh snap._ Girl talk! That gave him an idea. 

He pulled up the contact list in his phone, and selected “Animal Nerd”. 

It rang a few times. 

He ran a hand down his smooth, silky purple tie. He admired the polka dots within their own geometric boxes. It felt _good_ to be this stylish.

“Tom?” Renee’s muffled voice came through the line, like the phone were nestled between her head and her shoulder. Dogs could be heard barking close to the receiver. “Oh god, is it Leslie? Is she okay? I can’t get ahold of her.”

“Yeah, that’s because she threw her phone and it shattered into a million pieces.” He glanced at the tiled floor where the broken segments of Leslie’s flip phone still lay abandoned. “She got freaked out over her date with that guy who arrested me. The date hasn’t even happened, yet!”

These government chicks are craaaaaaazy.

Tom explained the details of the competition, and how it started with Councilman Dexhart. 

“Ah, yes, the ‘story that just won’t stop unfolding’. I’ll bet the acoustics in that cave were insane.”

“That’s what I was saying!”

“But Dexhart is so gross, though.” She shifted the phone as the sound of dried food pellets hitting a metal bowl clanged in the background. “He once proposed slashing the public school budget to fund a five-lane roundabout in the busiest part of town. Who in their right mind would ever want to sleep with someone like that?”

“I’m sure nitrous and cocaine make a persuasive combination.”

“I’ll bet that fourth, unnamed person probably has some demented stories to tell.”

Tom heard his cue. “Speaking of _stories to tell_ …” He batted his long eyelashes in a faux-innocent plea, momentarily forgetting that she couldn’t see him. 

“I don’t think I could be of much help to you here, Tom. I don’t really know Donna or Jerry all that well. I see them when I stop in to see Leslie, but…”

"But you must know _some_ dirt. Something you've witnessed, or heard second-hand from Leslie?" He had his hopes up. Gossip spreads like herpes in this town.

“Just several years worth of compliments about Mark, to be honest.”

“ _Compliments?!_ ”

“Trust me, you don’t want to know.”

As Leslie’s personal assistant, Tom was certain that he did, in fact, already know. Leslie didn’t let anything get in the way of her sharing gregarious compliments about others, no matter how TMI they were. Tom’s suffering notwithstanding. 

“I'm surprised Jerry would want to play a game like this. Doesn't seem like his kind of thing."

"He doesn't. But we're forcing him to play it anyway."

She paused. “Why?”

“And what, pass up on the opportunity to humiliate him in front of people he has to see every day until retirement? Not happening!”

She didn’t respond.

"And get this! Leslie's cop boyfriend came in earlier and told us that Jerry's a public urinator!" He snickered. “At least this morning hasn’t been a total waste. Can you believe some poor sucker out there had to witness that idiot Jerry peeing in some alley? I bet they had to gouge their eyeballs out. Jerry’s as ugly as he is dumb. He’s like the real-life inspiration for Fat Bastard.”

More silence.

"God he's so stupid. Sometimes I think he's just _asking_ for it."

"I see." Her tone had changed. “Hey Tom, I’ve got to run, but I know a few things you can search for. Gotta a pen and paper nearby?”

He grabbed the sticky note pad in front of him. “Lay it on me.”

She listed off a few odd words, spelling some of them out, and asked him to repeat them back to her. 

“Fournier, Krokodil, Calculus Bridge, and Blue waffles?”

“That’s right.”

“Damn, this must be some kinky shit! Please tell me these are about Donna. I’ll even take Mark. But if I’m gonna have to see Jerry naked--”

The other line clicked, signalling that the phone call had ended. 

“Weirdo.” Tom muttered to himself. “Alright, time to do me some internet searchin’.”

…

Wendy Haverford stirred non-fat milk into her Starbucks beverage, listening patiently while Tom vented. She considered checking her phone for any missed calls from the hospital. “Is that so?”

“Yeah! Ron Swanson does NOT play around! He’s comin’ for me, now!”

“And this is because you broke a ‘Jager secret’?”

She just didn’t get it. “I was caught in the moment! I had to fire back with _something_!”

She leaned into the conversation with both elbows on the table, hands wrapping themselves around the hot coffee cup, long fingers intertwining. Tom couldn’t look away from them. 

“Tommy, I think you’re overreacting. Ron seems too mature for a childish game like this.” Tom flinched inwardly as she continued, “He strikes me as someone very… composed. Professional. Reliable.” She drifted off into thought. “An old fashioned kind of guy, so burly. You know? I love how his mustache--”

“Yeah, got it. A real man’s man.” He crossed his arms in a pout. “I’m sure that watching him climb a tree after that Scarecrow Boat concert really gave us an insight into Ron’s soul.”

“I just don’t think you have anything to worry about.” She rested a hand on the table, a gesture of reassurance. He wanted to take it. 

“I don’t know.” He uncrossed his arms, his hesitant hands balling into sweaty fists and lowering to rest onto his lap. “I got into the man’s ex-wife business. _Both ex-wives_. In front of all of his employees. That’s personal. I still say he’s gunnin’ for me.”

Wendy laughed. “C’mon, Tommy…” Her eyes danced with her smile. They were beautiful. “That photo of you as a teenaged Jedi was adorable, and you know it. You didn’t look like you were in the Taliban. Nobody really thinks that.”

His worried frown melted, and he returned his interest to the barely touched giant chocolate chunk cookie in front of him. 

“You’re right. I’m too clean for him to find any dirt on me, no matter how hard he tries. I shouldn’t worry about Ron anymore.”

She looked at him with what Tom dared hope to call pride.

“I should be doubling down, and focusing ALL of my efforts on taking THOSE losers down, instead. Every minute of paid work time will be tunnel visioned on winning this. No more distractions.”

“Hmmm.” She grimaced, her hand sliding back to her coffee. She looked around the Starbucks cafe seating area for something she couldn't seem to find. “We did come here to talk about my new pediatric surgery fellowship, though, right?”

...

Tom was starting to sweat in his suit jacket from the powerwalk to Cozy's, a bar snuggled into the outskirts of downtown Eagleton.

_I guess parking availability isn't what it used to be_ , he thought snidely.

As he passed by the eye-catching floral arrangements affixed to every light post, the same frantic thoughts that had plagued him for hours raced through his mind.

_How did Ron find out? He and Wendy made such a convincing couple; how could anyone possibly have guessed that they were a green card marriage?_

This was the biggest dirt find of the whole office. Ron was going to win this by a landslide.

He kept picturing Ron's face when he said it. "I bested you." That aggressive point. That gleeful giggle. That dangerous look in his eyes.

What kind of a man makes another grown man say it back to him? Who just forces someone to do something they don't want to do, like that? A psychopath, that’s who.

He needed something to maintain his top spot on the food chain. Anything.

His tie was starting to constrict around his neck. He worked his finger around it, pulling it away from his throat, and taking a deep inhale of the vanilla-scented Eagleton air. 

This whole “Duke Silver” tip from Mark had better pay off.

He stepped inside Cozy’s for the first time, instantly feeling at home in the blue-tinted darkness, an almost smoky layer of haze wafting through the establishment. Tom almost wondered if there were dry ice machines running, like at a more upscale Halloween party. He added “buy a dry ice machine” to his mental to do list.

Past the throngs of middle-aged housewives, Tom spotted the bar, and busy bartenders keeping drinks filled. From the outside, Tom would’ve guessed that this was a low-key kind of place, where older gentlemen stopped in to drown their sorrows in the smooth tenor hours of jazz.

But to his surprise, the joint was packed wall to wall with women. A little older than he preferred, but still. Game recognizes game. If only the Snakehole Lounge could pull in this kind of female-to-male ratio. He’d be raking them in!

This Duke Silver character shouldn’t be too hard to spot, then. 

With only a little struggle, he made his way to the bar, catching the tender’s attention just as he began to wipe down the countertop. 

"Hey, this is gonna sound weird-- I'm looking for a guy named Duke Silver?"

The guy tipped his head towards the stage. "Yeah, he goes on in a second."

_Oh_. It looked like Tom was going to have to wait until Duke finished his set to get any sort of scoop on Ron Swanson.

On cue, the man who Tom assumed must be the bar owner, a snazzy-looking man named Dwayne who was also decked out in a striped suit like Tom’s, took the stage to announce the next act. 

Dwayne looked exuberant, like a successful business entrepreneur should. The gold chain around his neck hung low on his chest. Tom allowed himself a moment to dream about owning a bar like Dwayne.

Naw, scratch that. A _club_. And it'd be the hottest club Pawnee had ever SEEN. He’d even hire this Duke Silver dude to play gigs once in awhile. Maybe all of these Desperate Housewives would bring their college-aged daughters with them. 

"Ladies, ladies, ladies. It's just about that time. It's with the jazziest pleasure that I bring out for you, my man, Mr. Duke Silver!"

Amidst the raucous cheering and intense applause, the answer to all of Tom’s problems strode onto the stage wearing a fedora with a handful of red roses embroidered into the side.

Tom smiled harder than he had in ages.

...

The next morning, Tom sat listening to Leslie recap her drunken mishap. Showing up at a guy's house in the middle of the night, drunk, and not even sleeping with him? Damn, this chick does. Not. Play.

"You look more serene than usual, Tom. You must've had a more restful night than mine?" How she successfully managed to beat a hangover with a mocha cappuccino and a bag full of chocolates, Tom would never understand.

"It was alright." Tom reclined in his swivel chair, stifling a small smile. The white horizontal lines accentuated the loose form of his relaxed-fit pink polo shirt.

"It's so rare to see you outside of a suit!"

He shrugged one shoulder. "Didn't feel like a suit day."

After Dave showed up to let Leslie off the anxiety-ridden hook by pretending her spontaneous drop in was their first date, she beamed like sunshine through her confessional the moment he left the office.

**“We went on our first date, and I didn’t even know it. AKA, I nailed it. No fires, no ambulances, just good old-fashioned showing up drunk at a guy’s house late at night.”**

Tom contemplated her words from his desk behind the camera crew.

“Fires… ambulances... huh.”

It hadn’t occurred to him to search for Parks dirt from another department entirely. 

He picked up the office landline phone, checking the City Hall directory for a couple of municipality services in particular.

…

He stared ruefully at Jerry Gergich, sat quietly at his desk like the spineless worker bee that he was, writing whatever unimpressive thing he was working on. 

He tried to imagine what Jerry’s old face could’ve possibly looked like that _this_ would be considered an improvement.

“Jerry!” he barked on his way to the exit door past the older man’s desk. “Plastic surgery!?”

“I got hit by a fire engine.” But Tom was already gone.

April slung her backpack over her shoulder, following Tom out through the same exit. She glanced at Jerry with the utmost respect and admiration. “You are _so lucky_.” 

“How?” Jerry asked an empty office. 

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't Google them.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leslie prepares to welcome a delegation of Parks department officials from Boraqua, Pawnee's Sister City in Venezuela.

.

Season 2 Episode 5  
Date: October 15, 2009  
“Sister City”

The Aquatic Room of the Pet Shelter was a colorful one.

The Azure painted walls boasted ocean-themed decorations and trinkets. The cupboards above the sink counter had printed paper images of tropical islands taped to the doors, with chipper cartoon fish bearing tank cleaning instructions, as well as tips for a long and happy life for your marine friends.

The waist-high steel table matched the tables in all of the other exam rooms, except that this one was covered with dozens of plastic twist tie baggies filled with water scooped directly from the tank, each of these bags containing a single goldfish.

They swam in small circles, watching wide-eyed as Renee leaned further into the freshly emptied fish tank. The elbow-length rubber gloves were pulled tight as she reached to scrub the furthest corner, her boots lifted nearly onto their tiptoes.

She called out to the cellphone set to speaker mode where it lay nestled between two baggies.

"And I told him, 'If you can't commit, then you don't get to have a say in this anymore. I'll have to make the decision myself'."

"And what did he say?"

"He barked at me until I gave him both the Purina and the Kibbles 'N Bits."

She could hear the head shake in Leslie's chuckle from the counter top. "As usual. Say, did you get that photo I emailed you?”

“I did!" She paused cleaning to stand upright on the stool. "The one of parks department vice director Raul de Morana holding a machine gun in front of an oil tower. He looks so familiar, doesn’t he?"

“He does! Can't place him, though. Anyway, I was wondering if you think I should put cinnamon in these cups of chocolate milk? That's a thing, right?"

The common area behind City Hall was bustling and festive, decorated as elegantly as the Parks department could manage in the past hour while waiting for word on the imminent arrival of the Venezuelan delegates.

A red prop stage held flags for both nations, a symbol of unity and sisterhood. April Ludgate sat bored on the edge of the stage, scrolling aimlessly through her phone. Tom pretended to adjust the flag-bearing poles to avoid Leslie picking him to lead a whole new task of chores.

"You could make them some Ponche crema? You'd just need milk, eggs, sugar, rum, vanilla, nutmeg, cinnamon and lemon rind."

"Well, I've got Jerry preparing the welcome snacks table right now, so... I'm gonna just put some cinnamon in these cups of chocolate milk."

"You could also try making some Tizana, if you're interested? It's made with juice, different kinds of chopped fruits, and grenadine."

"Jerry, I need you to run to Target and get us some Hawaiian Punch and a can of Del Monte fruit cocktail."

"I'm on it, Leslie!" Jerry nearly fumbled the hot pot of coffee off of the table and onto the floor, catching the pot with both hands and making a memorable save. 

Leslie always was as flexible with a dilemma as she was quick thinking on a budget. 

Renee’s gaze lingered on the Spongebob set inside the fish tank. The Pineapple house was tilted to the right, cozied up next to the angry looking Easter Island type Squidward abode.

A side-eyed glance at the Zig-Zag eel burrowing into sand at the bottom of the tank on the side wall confirmed her gut feeling. “I should get a Crusty Krab figurine to go next to them, shouldn’t I?”

“Oh!” Leslie’s tone ticked up with hope. “Can you also give me some helpful Spanish phrases? I just want to make these men feel at home, and Altavista Translate has been notoriously unreliable.”

**Leslie confessed to the camera crew, standing with her back to the blue-spread table. “I once called the President of the Czech Republic a wet banana and told him I wanted to sewer mouth his grandmother.” She looked from the cameraman directly into the camera lens. “Damn you, Altavista. Damn you to hell.”**

Renee hummed aloud as she considered. "How about... 'Welcome to Pawnee'? That'd be 'Bienvenido a Pawnee'."

"Easy. Solid. Done. Now do one about the parks."

“We hope you enjoy our beautiful parks-- Esperamos que disfrutes de nuestros hermosos parques.”

"...You're gonna text me that as soon as you hang up, right?"

"Right."

“Okay, good. Perfect! Now say: 'In each of us lies the possibility to achieve, if we can dream, the utmost--'” 

“That one might be risky.”

"True. How about… 'These are the best waffles you’ll ever put into your mouth'.” 

"Ah, party at JJ's. Good call. 'Estos son los mejores waffles que jamás te pondrás en la boca'.”

"Now give me something spicy. Something that'll knock them off of their feet. Something unexpected!”

Renee’s smile curved into a playful grin. 

"Dónde está el baño?"

"What does that mean?"

"You are in for an exciting adventure!"

"Ha! That'll show 'em."

**“It actually means ‘Where is the bathroom?’” Renee shook with laughter in her confessional in the next exam room over. “Don’t tell Leslie. Let it be a surprise!" Drops of vinegar and liquefied salt granules flung from her gloves from the force of it; tears of joy welling up in her eyes. "It'll be so funny!"**

.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Parks department volunteers to help build a playground in a single day, as part of an event by the charity KaBOOM! Later, Leslie rents an excavator to start filling in the pit without first notifying Ron.

.

Season 2 Episode 6  
Date: October 22, 2009  
“Kaboom”

Ron Swanson was squatted low to the ground, balancing the entirety of the eight-foot tall plastic playground slide over his shoulder while the other hand tightened the adjoining bolts.

**“And when you have a good grip,” he instructed to the camera like a shop professor on a video lecture, “you rotate the wrench a quarter-turn clockwise. Make sure you square your knees with your hips and keep your back aligned with the structure.”**

He demonstrated the correct guiding procedures as Keef walked up, tall and lanky, wide grin nearly stretching to both ears. 

“Hey look, I got a remote control and I’m controlling you!” He held an actual remote at Ron, pointing it at him in sing-song mockery. “Go faster! Go faster! Go faster, Ron’s the master!” 

Ron’s glare flicked at the camera and back to his hand movements without a word. 

“Whatsa matter? Stuck in slow motion?” Keef whacked the remote against his own palm, feigning surprise at the insinuated dead battery. “I can’t get the fast forward button to work. Maybe if I… KaBOOM it!” He waved it in the air like a wand, swaying his hips back and forth in a dance, and pointed it threateningly at Ron. 

Ron’s mustache twitched in annoyance.

“KaBOOM! I’m a kid! I’m sliding down this mega purple slide that’s gonna make me the king of the playground-- oh wait, I’m _not_ , because Ron isn’t cranking faster!” The gap between his front teeth made his childlike smile even more disarming.

Ron lowered the contraption, ever so slowly, and rose to his feet. 

He stared into the soul of the man, hoping he wouldn’t have to waste words and that this rental clown of a community leader would get the hint. 

He didn’t.

Keef braced himself, in all of his purple shirted khaki glory, and lunged towards Ron, tickling his sides with an intense lack of awareness.

Ron giggled, twice, before batting Keef’s arms away and recoiling in embarrassment. 

“There’s the spirit, Ron!” Keef bounced excitedly before spiriting off, flailing off towards his next target like a cooked noodle. 

Ten feet behind where Keef was just standing was a motionless Renee, orange plastic fencing in her hands, face frozen in awkward suspense.

His brows furrowed intensely into the bridge of his nose. 

She whipped her head to the side, pretending she hadn’t just witnessed the entire ordeal, and walked briskly towards the monkey bars. 

…

“You just have to get better pockets next time. Check out this sweet food-vest.” Andy held his arms out wide, showcasing his bulging pockets. A donut balanced precariously over the edge of the jam-packed pocket at his waist, threatening to drop into the sand.

“Nah, I don’t want to take any food from anyone else.” There were so many people gathered to help, both Pawnee and Eagleton working together for a good cause.

“Ugh,” he rolled his eyes. “Dude, you are missing OUT. These bacon-wrapped cheese brats are the SHIT. I mean, in the good way. I’ve already had five.” He held up five fingers to prove his case.

She pursed her lips in consideration. “They do smell really good…”

She grabbed the last one from the aluminum container, losing all hesitation and shoving half of it in her mouth. Andy guffawed and she laughed back at him, the sound muffled by bacon-cheese-bratwurst goodness. 

The man on the other side of the table caught her periphery. There stood Ron, his deprived hand hovered over the now empty bin, with an expression so forlorn she could almost feel it. 

With no other alternative, she bit into the food, cutting it cleanly in half with her teeth. Gently cupping the outside portion, she held it tentatively out towards Ron, a little nervous.

“You wan’ tuh ovver hav?” 

He dragged his eyes from the halved brat to her stuffed chipmunk cheeks, a pulsing vein protruding from his forehead.

…

“And I don’t see any fucking permits on my desk. Do you?”

The city manager was letting Ron have it. Rather than chew him out in his office where his employees might overhear, Paul graciously demanded that Ron step out into the hallway where every passerby in City Hall could watch the grown man get emasculated for free.

“Do you have any idea how much he could sue us for? How much that would cost us?”

“I didn’t know Leslie was going to try to fill in the pit herself.” Ron’s voice was steady and calm, using every concentrated effort to deflect embarrassment. 

“Sounds like you don’t know jack shit about your own deputy director. Do you need me to hold your hand for you to do your job? Do I need to fucking _babysit_ you, Ron?”

He grimaced, nodding solemnly. “I’ll handle it, Paul.” His voice was barely over a whisper, his cheeks turning a shade pink.

“Handle it? Like you’ve handled it into the fucking red?” He stepped forward into Ron’s personal bubble, shoving an aggressive finger into his face. “Every cent we end up losing to this guy comes out of your department.” 

He stormed off, leaving a wide eyed Renee standing behind him, apparated out of nowhere like a newly anointed Ghost of Bad Timing. A bag of Popeye’s chicken tenders and biscuits shook slightly in her trembling clutch. 

“Um…” She chewed at her bottom lip, adjusting the bottom hem of her Hufflepuff Quidditch shirt. “Is… Leslie here?”

Ron’s face contorted into something so _beyond done_ that Renee could feel the nervous sweat forming on her forehead.

Neither of them spoke. She stared up at him like a deer in the headlights.

Somewhere in the distance, someone sneezed. A door opened and closed. The click clack of heels came and went. 

And Ron hadn't blinked, not even once.

After what felt like minutes, Ron turned and walked into his office closing the door behind him.

“ _Knope! My office, now!_ ”

She took slow steps backwards, glancing from left to right, until the backs of her knees met the bench. She sank back into the seat, awaiting a reprimanded Leslie to emerge from the office, relieved that she had an armful of comfort food to welcome her with.

...

“Alright, what’s it gonna take?”

Leslie looked schemingly between Scott the city attorney and Andy, hunched tensely in his chair on the other side of the table, his duct-taped neck pillow lending the exact level of credibility that one might expect.

“One.” Andy dropped a commanding fingertip onto the table. “I want that pit filled in, sir.”

Leslie stifled a proud smile, trying her best not to wink at her partner-in-crime.

Instead, she gave the sublest of nods to Ron, watching the meeting from afar through the conference room window.

He smiled, tightening his crossed arms closer to his chest. “Thank god,” he muttered under his breath. 

Satisfied, he walked back to his office, nodding at Donna as he passed her desk.

She held a polite smile until she heard the click of his door shutting. 

"Is he gone?" 

Donna looked down at Renee huddled in a fetal ball behind her desk, arms wrapped around her knees. 

"Girl, you _need_ to get yourself some hobbies."

.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greg Pikitis adds to his yearly tradition of toilet papering the Mayor Percy statue by breaking into the Parks department and vandalizing it.

.

Season 2 Episode 7   
Date: November 1, 2009  
“Greg Pikitis”

"Did you know that Morgan's getting braces?"

"It's freshman year. Isn't that a little late?"

"He can't chew gum, now. He's so pissed!"

The teens leaned into one another where they sat along the outer edges of the skate park, laughing despite the cold.

The Saturday after Halloween came with a biting wind, the crisp fall Indiana temperatures threatening to break into an early winter. 

Hayden pulled his arms inside his hoodie, tucking his glove-less hands under his armpits for warmth.

"How long do we have to stay out here?"

"I just want to see Malik do some tricks. We don't have to stay long." Em's words sounded reassuring, but the fact that she was dressed to the nines in a tight fitting outfit with contouring makeup and her best extensions in told Hayden that they'd be here for awhile. Emma did not get dolled up for a ten minute cameo.

"Can't you just ask him out? You guys can hang somewhere indoors."

"Did you hear that Lei's parents are getting a place in Miami?" Em asked, shrugging off her friend's words. "That's so unfair."

The skate park in Pawnee wasn't spacious, but it did have a few quarter pipes, funboxes, and a wide cement staircase with an iron hand rail. No one had dared try coasting down the railing in years.

"Does he even know you're here?"

Em craned her neck, following Malik as he wove through the shallow snake run. When he completed it successfully, he looked in their direction.

Em pulled a look and waved at him.

"How are they all not wearing jackets right now? I can see my own breath."

"Because they're moving around, Hayden. They're getting exercise. You're going to be colder if you sit still."

Hayden pulled out his phone in response to that unspoken challenge, and scrolled for any new notifications since he checked ten minutes ago.

A couple of girls from 4th period Biology called over from the next bench. “Hey, did you guys hear? They cancelled detention today because of the raccoon thing.”

Hayden squinted. "Again?"

"Did you hear that Lei's moving to Miami?"

“Yusssss, we were just discussing this. She's going to be so warm! Ugh, I hate Indiana!" Em fluffed the curled ends of her hair, pretending not to notice Malik approaching. 

“Did you hear about Greg?”

Hayden sat up straighter. "Greg? What happened?"

"He got arrested." The girls broke out into pearls of laughter. "He totally vandalized this government building, like spray painted it and tp'd it and everything. He stole some lady's keys to her office and demolished it." 

"Wait, that one lady he's always stalking, like, every Halloween? I thought he was just playing around." Em's eyes widened. "He got arrested, for real?"

"That's what I heard. And he made some FBI guy cry, and then he hired a fake mom on Craigslist to get him out of trouble."

The girl next to her cackled. “He’s so obsessed! Like, why does he hate her so much? I heard she had a mental breakdown because of it."

"I don't think he hates her. I think he's just being funny."

"He’s on probation, now. I heard his mom grounded him for a year." 

"Really? He's here right now, skating with Malik." Em pointed him out.

"Greg never gets in trouble for anything, ever, I swear..."

Em gave her friend a knowing look. "Of course, Hayden wouldn't mind if Greg stalked _him_ , would you Hayden?"

The other two girls' mouths fell open in shock.

"What? I think he’s cute!” Hayden blushed, toying with the drawstring of his hoodie, twirling it and wrapping it around his fingers.

"Should we call him over?"

"No, you guys! I'd be mortified!"

Malik skated up, coming to an abrupt stop in front of Em, smirking.

“Sup. You guys hear? They’re going to start charging us for Sweetums slushies at lunch.” 

“Ugh, that sucks.” Emma tried to keep her cool around her crush.

“Yeah, that’s messed up.”

Malik's smile faded as he looked over their heads and off to the side.

"Uh..... you guys know her?"

"Who?" They all craned their necks at once.

Renee stood at the ledge of the skate park, boots laced up tight over black jeans, trenchcoat billowing in the wind. 

A nefarious looking Pennywise the IT clown leered at them from her shirt, ominously foreboding.

She was strapped with the most insane Nerf Zombie guns they’d ever seen-- including a Wrathbolt holstered behind her back, and a Ripchain in her right hand. Her left hand held what appeared to be a gigantic whiffle bat, which she set aside to reach into her coat pocket.

A loud screech confirmed that it was indeed a megaphone. Compact, but effective.

She cleared her throat, eyes scanning the crowd of skaters. 

Lifting the megaphone to her lips, she demanded with a tone as sharp and chilling as the wind, “Alright, which one of you bitches is Greg Pikitis?”

.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deputy Director of Parks and Recreation Leslie and her staff canvass the neighborhood to seek support for an upcoming town meeting on their park proposal but end up drawing more critics than allies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided that I want to try to include a deleted scene for each and every episode of the series (up until the end), so here's one of the two episodes I skipped from season one:

.

Season 1 Episode 2  
Date: April 16, 2009  
“Canvassing”

The newest addition to the Pawnee Pet Shelter was a young greyhound, the kind of dog with spindly legs that trotted so lightly, it looked as if they were floating through the air.

He was currently spinning in excited circles in Renee's lap on the floor, yipping at the rubber duck toy as she squeaked it over his head. It was the longer kind that looked more drake than "bathtub yellow", and made an actual quack sound when you squeezed it.

It was such a joy to see that she could barely focus on her phone call with Leslie.

"Sorry, he's just such a sweet boy! I can't stop watching him. He's so full of love and affection." She set the duck aside and rubbed his tummy. His tongue lolled around in his open mouth, his tail wagging furiously.

"There's nothing I'd want more right now than to have a cuddly pup in my lap... or Daniel Craig. Whichever of them can get here first."

"But yes, I am definitely up for helping with your new subcommittee stuff. Anything you need, I'm here! What are we doing first?"

"Canvassing!" Leslie chirped.

Her hand stilled. "Canvassing?"

"Nothing better than good old fashioned door-to-door campaigning."

Renee looked down at an equally nonplussed face. He nudged at her hand with his nose to let her know that she should continue to pet him, immediately.

"Soooo..." her fingers trailed absentmindedly through soft fur. “It’s walking up to people's houses-- complete strangers, knocking on their doors, and trying to convince them of things?"

"Yeah, uh huh. Basically."

"And we do that all day?"

"And I was thinking we could break into smaller groups. Maybe you could handle a dozen block's worth on your own?"

"...That's terrifying."

"HA! Good one! But seriously, this is going to be great. Just think of each person you encounter as a new friend... that you'll be explaining important, detailed information to, and trying to convince them to be on our side as quickly as possible."

After a beat, she picked up the rubber duck and squeaked it repeatedly into the receiver.

"Oh no! Leslie, it's the duck! The duck! Do you hear him? He's throwing a tantrum!" she shouted over the quacks. "This will take me aaaallllll day to calm him down. Ducks are such divas! _Okaybye_!"

She clicked the end call button.

"No worries, boy. I'll make it up to her." She scritched behind his ears and smiled as his eyes fell shut with pure bliss. "I'll bring my sonic boom bat to her open forum in case anyone starts acting up, again."

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And then she did! #throwback #lawrence


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leslie attends an award banquet for her mother. Tom begs Mark to go bar-hopping with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's the second episode I had skipped from chapter one.

.

Season 1 Episode 5  
Date: May 7, 2009  
“The Banquet”

Tom and Mark were dressed normally when they first walked into Scully's bar. She swears they were. 

Mark had nodded hello, and took in the scene.

"Television and Movie Trivia Night." 

"That's the loser corner. We want the bar. That's where all the _ladies_ are at." Tom rubbed his hands together with a slimy grin. 

It wasn't until Renee had finished writing down "Milo Ventimiglia, Heroes, NBC" onto her mini dry erase board that she saw it from across the room. 

The orange hat.

That goofy, floppy, rust colored, upside-down bucket of a hat.

Nothing else about Tom's appearance had changed, and she hadn't the faintest idea where he'd even gotten it from.

But he paired it with his _suit_.

Renee stared in fascination, getting lost in the juxtaposition of it. It was as if Tom were a bizarre art installment, walking amongst us.

"So weird...", she murmured.

It reminded her of black and white photos she'd seen as a child, of women wearing short-brimmed sports hats from the late 1920's. 

_He's wearing an orange women's hat, with a suit, in a bar_.

The woman sitting next to her at the table nudged her, urging her to lift up her board, and they caught the point just in time. 

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, sorry about that. I'm fine." She shook her head and pointed in Tom's direction. "I just never knew that my sister's assistant was _so fucking cool_."

The woman smiled blankly and wiped her board clean. 

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you didn't strain yourself reading a chapter this long.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andy takes over as the shoeshiner at the Pawnee town hall, replacing the retiring Old Gus. Mark breaks the bad news to Leslie that the Pawnee library is trying to take control of the vacant lot where Leslie plans to build a park. Ron is reunited with his ex-wife Tammy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to season two. Thanks for joining me on this time travelling excursion.

.

Season 2 Episode 8   
Date: November 5, 2009  
“Ron and Tammy”

**"Wow, Old Gus leaving must really be hitting Ron hard," Leslie said in her confessional next to the Department of Records and Archives room, pairing her power suit with a pink top.**

Ron read affectionately to the man resting in the wooden chair from the paper he held in his hands, speaking each word with eloquence and meaning.

“Thank you Old Gus for brightening our lives, our hearts, and most importantly our shoes.”

The dozens of City Hall employees gathered around the Shoe Shine stand for the farewell sendoff applauded the touching moment.

**"It's not every day that Ron Swanson writes such a heartfelt sentence." Leslie sighed. "What an incredible honor!"**

It was a good day for Leslie Knope. She had secured Andy’s position as Gus’ replacement, which meant she was officially responsible for helping someone to improve their lives through gainful employment. 

Andy clutched his newly inherited shoe shine kit close to his chest. He was losing the battle to stay patient as Leslie had instructed, bouncing giddily on the balls of his feet.

The crowd awaited Old Gus' words with baited breath.

“Well, I’ve been listening to your boring speeches for the last 50 years. And now it’s time for you to listen to one of mine.”

Laughter followed the blunt retort. Jerry and Tom looked on in merriment from the side.

“A day like this makes a man reflect upon his life. And I’ve come to the conclusion that I’ve completely wasted mine.”

Leslie and a few others tittered nervously; an awkward hush falling over the room. Ron’s _oh shit_ detector went off in the form of propped eyebrows and averted eye contact.

“And just for the record, I never, ever liked being called Old Gus. I didn’t understand it when I was in my 20s, and I sure hate it now! So go to hell, every single one of you. Screw Pawnee, and screw your damn shoes!” 

Andy was losing it, holding himself up with his hands propped on his knees. “Old Gus is classic,” he said shakily through the laughter. 

Most of the crowd had wandered off, leaving only a few left to bear the brunt of the fallout. Leslie looked uncomfortably at the floor, waiting to move past this failed celebration and begin facilitating the training process for Andy. 

"Now roast ME!", Renee called from her spot next to the magazine rack, finally visible as the crowd dispersed.

"What?!"

"Roast me next. C'mon, Milton Berle!" She did The Twist where she stood, hips and legs rotating to a non-existent beat, loose arms bent away from her body in a runner’s stance. It was more of an excited burst of anticipation than any kind of accurate rendition. "I can take it! Give me your best!"

Old Gus was dumbfounded. "I don't even know who you are!"

"Ahahahaha! Daaaaaamn... You got me!" Renee clapped. "That was a good one. Okay, next zinger."

His scowl deepened. “I wish you’d get the hell out of here and let me get on with it.“

Andy pointed at her with his free hand, gasping with laughter. "He said he doesn't even know you! ‘Cause of how you don't work here, or anything. He burned you so hard!" Andy beamed at the camera. “Savage!”

…

The Subcommittee for Pit Beautification was just beginning their meeting when Mark leaned into the doorway with some bad news for Leslie. “Can I talk to you for a second?” 

“Fine. Tom, you’re in charge. Keep the momentum going, keep these minds working,” she instructed before stepping out of the room. 

Tom knew how to rally a group. He was a natural leader, masterfully skilled in getting to the bottom of important issues. 

“Okay, would you rather be able to fly, or speak fluent French?”

Donna answered confidently. “French.”

"What? No! Why would you pick that?"

She scoffed. "What's the point of flying to a fashion show in Paris if you can't understand the designer descriptions?"

"Touche. Ann?" The shift from chatty to seedy was an automatic one. "You like it when a man _parlez francais_ into your pillow?" His eager grin stretched from ear to ear.

"Can I fly away from this conversation, please?"

…

Renee continued her perusal of the Humor section at the library, the surprisingly abundant selection of newspaper comic strip collection series taking up several shelves.

She already had a few 'Calvin and Hobbes' books tucked into one arm, and was browsing titles for 'The Far Side' when someone tapped her on the shoulder.

She jumped at the sight of Leslie in her dark suit and patriotic pins, her wide eyes scrutinizing Renee's paled reaction.

“It’s n-not what it looks like!" Renee looked all around, eyeing the fluorescent lights on the ceiling. "It only... _seems_ like I’m in a library, but--”

"I thought that was you! Listen. Disregard all of those texts I left you earlier. Tammy isn't a diabolical, ruthless bureaucrat after all. Or a punk ass book jockey. Government gals!” She threw a fist of empowerment into the air, and delighted away.

Renee watched her go, relieved to have avoided any betrayal to Leslie having been caught on such loathed grounds as the Pawnee Library.

Speaking of empowerment... "No way, they have 'The Boondocks' here?!"

…

Donna stared Leslie down like she were an impulsive toddler, one step away from knocking over a cabinet filled with fine china.

“Do you know what you just did?”

“Yes, Donna, I got two people to put aside years of hostility and open the door to the possibility of friendship.”

“You were not here when Ron and Tammy got divorced. I was. Those two are CRAZY.”

“Yeah, and you just opened the gates,” Tom added unhelpfully. “To Crazy Town.”

Leslie rolled her eyes and walked away, passing April and Jerry hunched over paperwork. April waited until she was gone, and then abandoned the paperwork to join Donna and Tom.

“Did the air feel different to you, when she was here? Like the sky was about to open up and rain lava?”

“Trust me, it is about to get a _lot_ worse.” 

**“I could sense the presence of evil when she walked into the room,” April deadpanned, staring into the camera lens. “I’ve never felt so alive.”**

…

Ann stormed into the Parks office with a tall stack of photo frames. She paused at the sight of Leslie’s empty office. 

“Leslie’s out,” Donna offered from her desk to Ann’s immediate left. “She’s at the library, attempting to disentangle Ron from the clutches of Satan.”

“She’s… oh. You mean she’s going to try to help Ron break up with his ex-wife?”

“I expect she’ll be back soon.” 

Furious chatter accompanied the pounding footsteps echoing louder from the hall. 

Ron and Leslie burst through the doors, so focused on their frenzied escape from the library that Leslie didn’t even notice Ann was in the room.

“My office!” Ron barked. “I’ll barricade the door from the inside, in case she followed us!”

“Do you have a can of black paint at your desk? I’ll black out the windows so she can’t see us!”

Ann stood calmly as they scurried into Ron’s office and slammed the door shut behind them.

“Was that a push-pin stuck in his forehead?”

“And part of his mustache is missing,” Donna concurred. “I guess their plan to free Ron actually worked out.”

She eyeballed the large stack of frames in Ann’s arms. A blue printed flier bearing “Andy and Ann’s Family Shoeshine” peeked out from the bottom.

“Looks like your ex problems are just beginning.”

Ann slumped in defeat, her shoulders sagging under the weight of the frames.

“Relax. Andy’s a marshmallow. He’ll never give you more trouble than what Tammy brought. She once came in just to run Ron’s favorite polo shirt through the shredder. And earlier this week they broke a table at that diner down the street. Because they were both _laying on it_. They do _not_ care if they have an audience.”

“Holy shit!”

“And you don’t even want to know about the damage they had done to one of the rooms at the Motel Glen Capri. I know the woman that runs the place. She said that she had never seen anything like it.”

Ann considered this. “You know? I kinda do…”

Donna grinned with renewed purpose. “Then you’d better pull up a chair.”

.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leslie and the parks department bicker as they work on a proposal for a new town hall mural. Leslie proposes a picture of a historic Pawnee bakery fire, which she thinks will win because it is dark and depressing.

.

Season 2 Episode 9  
Date: November 12, 2009  
“The Camel”

The Parks lobby had become a makeshift art gallery. Ann, Donna, Jerry, Tom, and April each sat in protective guard of their respective murals. 

Leslie took center stage, smiling brightly at the lackluster group. 

“June 8th, 1922. The Pawnee bread factory burned to the ground. We lost a lot of good bread that day… as well as several human lives.”

**"Including Lechoslaw the Lush, who had fallen asleep on the sidewalk outside the factory.” Leslie couldn’t help but include some historical Pawnee trivia facts from her office confessional. “Because of Prohibition, he had decided to get drunk on ethanol at the grain fermentation plant across the street. He had downed enough to take down five rhinos… he was also highly-flammable."**

She looked at her mural, sitting there on the easel; eighty-seven years of historical impact in one photo.

“And it also made the whole town smell like toast, which one resident described as ‘disturbingly enticing’.”

**”To celebrate the Roman Empire’s invention of Pan Dulcis-- or, as we know it, _French Toast_ , Pawneeans had dozens of cows and over a hundred chickens sent over by train from Kansas. Once the bread went up in flames, those animals had nothing to do but just stand there.”**

**Leslie’s eyes flicked to the camera lens with a twinkle of mischief. “They must’ve gotten pretty moooooo-dy just hanging around with nothing else going on…” She grinned open mouthed at her pun. “It does sound pretty clucking boring.”**

“But I digress. The point is, we rebuilt Pawnee to the wonderful town that it is today.”

Tom pouted. “Why would you want a mural that shows people dying, when you could have shapes that come alive?”

“Well, because it’s the most famous event in our town’s history, and people love _voting for tragedy_.” She said the last part in a hushed voice, despite no one else being anywhere near enough to hear them. “ _Look at the Oscars. This is our Holocaust movie. This is our English Patient._ ”

**”Ello, govnah! Would you loike a spote of tea? I can’t move me ahms!”**

**She chuckled in her normal voice. “English Patient.”**

“It sounds like you’re exploiting the tragedy.”

“See, Ann gets it.”

.


End file.
